


Meet Me Again

by immistermercury



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Ballet, Fluff, Happy, M/M, freddie keeps it a secret from jim but he's not incredibly subtle, jim gets excited, not an au but freddie does ballet whilst also being in the band, yoU KNEW IT WAS COMING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 21:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17568446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immistermercury/pseuds/immistermercury
Summary: He had never even brought himself to mention it to Jim, the person that he was so sure would not ridicule any part of him. It was his secret, the secret that he shared with Kash and Jer and no one else in the whole world. They encouraged him to share it, to show off the hard work, all the training in secret, the torn ligaments and physical therapy that had only served to make him stronger.





	Meet Me Again

**Author's Note:**

> Another fun little ballet!Freddie from me (we all knew it was coming)! I'm not 100% happy with how this came out but it's only a little piece that I wanted to get finished before I launched into the sad world of Fluorescent. Title is taken from Oceans by Coldplay because I had no idea what to title this and this was the lyric that was playing.
> 
> Also - shoutout to aussiebornwriter for being as enthusiastic as I am about dancer!Freddie!

“How about ballet?” John suggested, cigarette hanging between his lips as he messed around with a new riff. “You’ve been wearing the leotards for long enough and it fits in with the whole… bohemian yet middle class thing.” He flashed a smile up at Freddie, who was leaned against the piano. His cigarette sat elegantly between his fingers as a quick expression of excitement flashed across his face.

 

“That’s not a bad shout.” Brian replied. “Ballet’s a nice part of the whole expression of the arts that we have going on.” He smiled, spread out on the floor of the studio with a new lyric sheet. “What do you think, Fred?”

 

Freddie took a contemplative drag on his cigarette, trying not to look suspiciously eager. “I could give it a go, if you get me someone proper to practise with.” He looked down at his feet, stretching his toes out delicately into a pointed arch. He relished the feeling: he’d maintained his lessons without telling the others, all through their busy careers. Whenever he left without cause, they assumed the worst, and he let it stay that way. “You think I’ve got the feet for it?” He joked, but couldn’t deny that he was showing off slightly.

 

Brian tried to match his point, humming when he noticed how low Freddie could point his toes and noticing the tension in his own ankle. “You’re pretty flexible.” He commented. “You could probably do a pretty good job of it.” He said, watching the smile grow on Freddie’s face.

 

John stopped playing for a moment to try it himself. “Fuck.” He muttered succinctly, putting his foot next to Freddie’s. “Christ.” He laughed as his foot started to cramp up. “How do you do that? Have you been practising in secret?” He joked as both men stood normally.

 

“Oh, darling, I’m nothing if not mysterious.” He winked and both men laughed. “Ballet it is. I’ll have Miami see if he can get something organised.” He smiled warmly and sat back down on his piano stool. He couldn’t help but periodically flex his feet, undeniably excited to share his secret with the others.

 

When Freddie got home, Jim was still at work. The house was silent. He placed his bag down by the front door and went upstairs to the bedroom, grabbing his ballet bag from the bottom of the chest of drawers: a largely innocuous bag, simple black satin. He took it down to the dining room and quickly pushed the table into the next room. The dining room was largely unused, it being too big for two men; they had always preferred the cozy little table in the kitchen to eat at. 

 

The room was a large hall, the furniture always seeming a little too sparse for such an expanse of space. In the rare time that he got alone, however, it was the perfect space to practise in. It was large, the floors polished and smooth, the ceilings high. One wall was windows, letting the late afternoon sunshine flood through the room, painting it a gorgeous gold that made warmth bubble through Freddie’s chest.

 

He sat on the floor, dressed in simple tracksuit bottoms and one of Jim’s t-shirts. He carefully took his ballet shoes from their packet and pointed his toes as he rolled the pink satin over his feet. Carefully, ever-so-carefully, he started to stretch out each part of his body, moving so fluidly to warm up each muscle.

 

He placed the needle of the record player on an old record, one from his childhood, a familiar practice song with a familiar warm-up routine to go alongside it. And as he moved, he moved so gracefully, starting so slow, such minute movements, letting himself build up gradually.

 

Then he was dancing, lost in the movements entirely, the sense of calm and space in his mind reflecting a sense of alignment that he had never shared with anyone. It never seemed compatible to be both a rockstar and a ballet dancer, and Freddie had never wanted his favourite private hobby to become common knowledge. It was intensely personal, private, had brought anguish along the way that he didn’t want trivialised by the British public. Ballet allowed him the freedom to move up and down the hall, lost in the beauty of the orchestra, allowed him the freedom to imagine himself somewhere more romantic. He was a pure romantic at heart, dreamt of big rehearsal halls and bigger stages. He dreamt of showing the world such a private part of himself, but knew he would never do it.

 

He had never even brought himself to mention it to Jim, the person that he was so sure would not ridicule any part of him. It was his secret, the secret that he shared with Kash and Jer and no one else in the whole world. They encouraged him to share it, to show off the hard work, all the training in secret, the torn ligaments and physical therapy that had only served to make him stronger.

 

They had been thrilled when he was cast as Romeo, not imagining anyone better to play such a romantic character. He was strong, but he was slim, he had perfected his arch, he adored partner work. They had begged to come and see him perform, but he wouldn’t so much as tell them the school that he belonged to.

 

The performance was coming up soon, and Freddie was almost beginning to reconsider.

 

Jim leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, watching as his love practiced something that he so obviously knew inside out. He hadn’t been expecting to find Freddie at home, but was intrigued by the faint music room coming from the dining room of all places. Moreover, Freddie wasn’t playing; he was listening, increasingly more rare as he composed more often. Watching Freddie like this seemed to connect so many dots in his mind, all the wonderings of where he could be, the times where he wasn’t with anybody that Jim knew, the evenings where he just seemed to disappear from the face of the earth for a few hours.

 

It made sense of the mysterious bruises that seemed to blossom on his forearms and his ankles, too reoccuring to come from his shows. It made sense of how careful he was when he broke his ankle, losing his usual haphazard attitude. It made sense of his tendency to stand on tiptoe, to point out a foot when he leant in for a kiss. All of his little romantic tendencies seemed to click then with his sense of discipline and determination.

 

His trousers slipped a little, revealing the taut muscles of his stomach, and Jim hummed ever-so-slightly. Freddie was stronger than he’d ever considered. “Love…” Jim murmured as Freddie came to a natural halt, reaching for his drink on the counter. 

 

Freddie’s face instantaneously flushed scarlet, his skin prickling hot with the embarrassment of being discovered. “Darling-” He replied as he turned around to look at Jim. He couldn’t begin to deny what was going on here; the shoes were too big of a giveaway, and he couldn’t be sure how much of it Jim had seen. He seemed to freeze in that moment, caught up in his own mind.

 

Jim came into the room, cupping Freddie’s cheek and kissing him slowly. “You look beautiful.” He murmured with a smile. “What are you practicing?” He asked, trailing his thumb over Freddie’s lower lip gently.

 

Freddie gave him a wide smile, forgetting any embarrassment, and kissed the pad of his thumb. “What does it look like, my dear?” He asked, gesturing to his feet.

 

“Just a dance, or something bigger?” Jim asked, resting his hands on Freddie’s waist and holding him tightly. Freddie tipped his head back and grinned at the feeling; he loved the way that Jim held him.

 

“Romeo.” Freddie breathed in response, his own hands going to grasp at Jim’s shoulders. He laughed as Jim picked him up and sat him on the corner, wrapping his legs around his lover’s waist. “I would’ve told you earlier if I knew you’d be this excited.”

 

“You’re like a puzzle, gorgeous.” Jim murmured, kissing Freddie’s jawline, hands still tight around his waist. “And I just love to find new pieces.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Give me a comment if you did, leave me kudos if you're feeling kind and let me know what you think of dancer!Freddie either below or on tumblr /immistermercury.


End file.
